Sirens
by Victoria Squalor
Summary: Killian Jones is drowning in daughters. (Hook/Aurora crackfluffporn; may cause diabeetus)


**A/N:** In the midst of working on something dark n' heavy for another fandom, I needed a good spoonful of sugar. Don't mind me, I crackship like a fiend, and these two have had it coming.  
**Disclaimer:** OUAT and other Disney properties = not mine. Colin O'Donoghue = sadly also not mine.

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**Sirens**

by Victoria Squalor

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"Why was I cursed with daughters? _Six of them?_"

Killian Jones stood in the doorway of the master suite, blue eyes blazing, rivulets pouring down his face, looking as if he'd just been dunked in the drink. Childish giggles wafted past him, their owners concealed safely from sight.

His wife looked up from the vanity where she sat drawing a brush through her honey-brown hair, in the bedroom they shared that had once been a captain's cabin. Their beach home had long ago been a proper seafaring galleon, back before the nefarious Captain Hook had stolen it, run it aground on the sands of a placid lagoon and presented it as a wedding gift to his princess bride. _Siren's Song, _it was called, the well-worn words etched on a golden plate affixed to the hull, a coquettish carved woman preening at the prow. To be certain, these days, the forecastle was only full of little girls sliding across the slick floorboards in their stocking feet, and the rigging only served as a jungle gym.

Aurora smiled serenely at her disgruntled, dripping husband.

"Blessed, Killian," she corrected lightly, returning her attention to the looking-glass. "You were _blessed _with six daughters. The fates took note of your affinity for women, and rewarded you in kind."

"You couldn't have given me just one son?" he complained, nudging the door shut behind him with his booted foot before pulling it off and dumping out the little remaining water on the deck.

"If I had, you'd favor him, and then what would have become of Aqua?"

"She's not going to be a bloody pirate, I'll see to that," Killian groused, thinking of his firstborn, and the one who most resembled him, with her dark hair, mischievous expression, and total disregard for the rules. He had no doubt the water balloon attack had been entirely her idea; she was already taking an interest in naval warfare, stealing his old frock coats out of his sea chest, and was keen on ordering her sisters around as if they were her personal ragtag crew, something Arista in particular did not take kindly to ("I'm not going to be your stupid first mate, _stupid!_") Andrina most certainly had played a part, given her love of practical jokes, but he suspected the younger ones had only joined in due to their hero worship of their eldest sister. Alana was still a baby, after all, and could barely run without landing hard on her bottom, let alone throw anything with accuracy.

"With all due respect, my love, if you try to tell her that, you'll only encourage her more," Aurora pointed out as she set down her silver hairbrush.

"I'll not have my little girl running about with common thieves and brine-soaked scoundrels." As soon as Killian said it, he could see the suppressed quiver of laughter on her lips, and cut her off before she could point out his hypocrisy. _"That's different."_

"Yes, dear, you are a scoundrel in a class of your own." She smiled and rose from the vanity, crossing over to him and cupping his face in her hands, standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his mouth; he couldn't help but nip back at her lower lip, until she parted them just slightly enough to let his tongue slide in, and he felt that same proud little surge of accomplishment when she moaned softly into his mouth, the same ever since the first time he had kissed her.

This time, however, she pulled away, prompting another scowl—although he forgave her instantly with her next words. "Now, we ought to get you out of those brine-soaked clothes, don't you think?"

Killian grinned, all his parental peevishness temporarily shelved at the prospect. He reached for the fastenings on his doublet, but Aurora pushed his hand and hook out of the way and took over the disrobing duties herself. "You know," she mused, her nimble fingers prying the buttons loose, "I sometimes wonder if Aqua's nature has to do with the way she was conceived."

The memory only made him grin wider. That had happened in the lagoon, shortly after their wedding. He'd waded through the bathwater-warm shallows with her arms wound about his neck and legs around his waist, ankles crossed at the small of his back. It soon proved to not be enough friction, and he'd ended up laying her down on shore and taking her there in the sand as the water lapped around their legs. It had been well worth the grains of sand he'd had stuck in the crack of his arse for the following week. When the baby arrived nine months later, it seemed fitting to call her Aquata.

"I just don't know why she can't be more…_princessy_," Killian sighed as his wife tugged the doublet off his arms. "She is next in line after you, after all."

"She's already announced her intention to abdicate in favor of one of her sisters, remember? At dinner the other night, which got Arista and Adella fighting over who'd make the better queen—"

"Oh, yes, I seem to recall a tureen of peas being dumped over someone's head." Killian rolled his eyes, although he chuckled. "Arista is far too tyrannical. Delly would be better."

"Delly only wants to play dress-up. Tina's the smartest, but…well, I don't think she much cares." Attina never took her nose out of a book; she brought them to the beach, to the dinner table (using them as a shield from her sisters' projectile peas), and often sat reading on the quarter gallery outside her parents' bedroom, legs hanging off the side. And that was only when they were in residence at the _Siren's Song_; at her mother's castle, she hardly ever left the library. _Must be terribly dull to be the middle daughter of a pirate captain and a princess_, he always thought of Attina with a twinge of amusement, _if she finds those make-believe stories so captivating._

"They're young yet, 'Rora. I don't think we ought to be pigeonholing them quite so soon. They might surprise us." He ducked his head to kiss her fingers. "Right now, let's just focus on getting naked, shall we?"

Aurora smiled and blushed beautifully at the words, as if she were still an innocent maiden unused to his advances—something else that always made his heart flutter. Having made short work of the doublet, which landed on the deck with a soft clatter, she stood on tiptoe again to pull Killian's linen shirt over his head. She gently ran her fingertips through the coarse thicket of hair on his chest, tracing a line down from his sternum to his navel, down the narrow trail of hair that disappeared into his waistband, where she now hooked her fingers. He swallowed hard, aware of the increasing lack of room in his now very snug trousers, and cupped the side of her face with his good hand, seizing her mouth with his again.

"Maybe," she breathed against his mouth, "maybe you'd have better luck this time?"

"I think my luck is pretty good as it is," he murmured as he pulled off her thin, gauzy nightdress with great haste, no patience for any of her slow teasing, and lowered his mouth to her breast, producing a squeak of shocked delight from his wife.

Aurora giggled. "No, I meant…this one would be number seven. Lucky seven. Perhaps you'll finally get what you want."

"Lucky, yes. Very lucky." He pressed a trail of kisses down her stomach, relishing her faint gasp as his tongue dipped below her navel. How, he wondered, after so many times together, after so many years and so many daughters, could it still feel like this? The softest touches and smallest sounds still thrilled him as much as they ever had. He'd never known anything like this, not even with Milah. He still bore the tattoo of her name, though now faded from sunshine and the passage of time—he could no more disown her memory than Aurora could disown Philip's—but with Aurora it was something else entirely.

Something that he hadn't realized until he'd almost lost it. Almost lost _her._

He could recall all his failings then just as vividly as ever: how he'd been too stubborn and stupid to admit that he was growing more fond of the princess with each passing day, how he'd so cruelly mocked her prophetic night terrors and arrogantly dismissed her pleas not to face the Dark One alone. It had all come to a head when she'd thrown herself between them, taking the full brunt of a curse that would have blown him to smithereens, had it hit its intended target; but having been intercepted by the purest of sacrifices, it had caused unexpected complications instead.

He recalled the deal he'd made to restore her to life, the words the old hag had whispered to him as soon as he'd signed the contract, one slimy tentacle winding around his wrist in a parody of a handshake, red welts left where the suckers had been. _You owe me a debt, Killian Jones. And sooner or later, you will pay it back, or you will pay in blood. I always collect my debts. _

Inwardly, he twinged. He had no intention of bleeding for the filthy sea witch, and as long as he steered clear of her waters, he'd never have to. That was the real reason he'd never let Aquata, or any of her sisters, take up life on the sea. He privately thought his eldest would make a fine pirate someday, but if the squid-bitch came looking to collect…

"Love?" Aurora's soft voice broke through his thoughts, her fingers caressing his temples. "What's wrong?"

He glanced up at her through the fringe of his lashes and managed a smile. The guilt of lying to her weighed just as heavily on his heart as his past transgressions, but there was nothing else that could be done. _She can never know what I had to do to save her. Never. She'd only blame herself._

"Just thinking," he admitted quietly, and not untruthfully, "about how I nearly lost you."

"Oh, Killian, please don't—" she began to plead, only to be silenced by her husband's mouth again. Impatiently, he undid the front of his trousers and pushed them down past his hips, forgetting about his earlier intention to get naked, or even that he currently only had one boot on. He caressed the back of her thigh as he kissed her, drawing her leg up and pulling it over his hip as he pushed her back onto the bed. She swung up her other leg, hooking her knee over his shoulder.

He moved to unfasten the hook from his left wrist, as he customarily did when they made love, but Aurora stopped him. "No need." She kissed the tip of his nose. "I know you'll be gentle."

Killian lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, _there's _the dirty little princess I married. I don't seem to recall having ever been particularly gentle with you, do you?"

"Of course, many times. Mostly when I'm pregnant, which _has _been the better part of the last ten years." Now it was Aurora's turn to smirk.

"Yes, and you're about to be again," he growled into her ear, biting the lobe in time with his first thrust, hearing her cry out as he pounded his hips into hers at a sharp angle. She wrenched one hand through his hair and gripped his hook with the other, which, despite the lack of sensation, sent an even more powerful jolt of desire straight to his cock. _Oh, I'm definitely leaving it on from now on_. He kissed the knee over his shoulder as her hips bucked up against his. "Oh, oh_, 'Rora_," he groaned loudly as she clenched around him tightly, and moved his fingers down to the pulsing little bud between her legs, increasing the tempo and volume of her whimpers and cries.

Killian came before she did, though not by much; only moments after he had exploded and spent himself inside her did her body take on those telltale tremors. Rather than ease out and off her, he rested his head, now damp with sweat as well as seawater, in the crook of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of her skin. Aurora idly caressed the scruffy line of his jaw, dropping a kiss onto his brow.

"I was thinking about names again," she said drowsily. "What about Ariel?"

"That's a girl's name, love, and we're done having girls."

"But just say, for argument's sake, we had another. It's a lovely name, isn't it?"

"Lovely, yes, but the point is moot as we're not _having _a girl."

"I certainly hope your luck holds out then, Captain Hook."

He stuck his tongue out at her as a tremendous crash sounded from outside their door, followed by an earsplitting shriek and a chorus of girlish voices arguing. "Ah," Killian Jones sighed with another roll of his eyes, "the sirens are calling."


End file.
